


Tell Me I'm Safe

by whisperingwind



Series: epilepsy 'verse [19]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Disney World & Disneyland, Epilepsy, Fluff, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neurological Disorders, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperingwind/pseuds/whisperingwind
Summary: “Harry? Hey, listen to me,” Louis says, frantic. “You have your location turned on, don’t you? I’m going to come to you, okay? I need you to stay there. Don’t move. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Louis’ voice sounds muffled suddenly, meaning he probably pulled the phone away from his face. “He’s having a seizure. Yes, I’m sure. Just meet me over there. He’s over by Liberty Square.”His head starts to feel strange next. It’s similar to sensations he’s had when he used to drink. The pavement stretching before him looks crooked, tilted almost. The sight makes him feel sick to his stomach.Or, when at Disney, not everything is as magical as it's thought to be.Title from "Take Me Home" by Jess Glynne





	Tell Me I'm Safe

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a long time! i'm gonna try to write more this summer tho! hopefully y'all enjoyed it. as always, feel free to leave me story suggestions below - even if they don't pertain to epilepsy verse - or on my tumblr. feel free to give me a follow on twitter @terrestrialhaz (we can be super cool mutuals! i follow back) thank you for kudos, hits, bookmarks, recs, comments, all that jazz. have a great day/night! huge love and cheers. emily.x

“Daddy, daddy look!” Sylvia exclaims, tugging on Harry’s pant leg. “Daddy, it’s Tinkerbell! Look at her wings! She’s so pretty!” 

“Oh, wow! She’s even more magical in real life,” he says, awestruck. As he speaks, he hears the shutter of a camera. When he looks over his shoulder he sees Louis snapping a picture of Kyra, their eldest daughter, looking moody as she sits on one of the park benches, one ankle crossed over the other, arms folded over her chest. 

He and Louis spent months organizing this trip to Disney World. It wasn’t easy to coordinate their schedules enough to manage a seven day vacation nor was it easy to find proper housing and accommodations in Florida, especially in Orlando, in the middle of July. They had to find a house sitter, thankfully one of their trusted neighbors agreed to check their mailbox and water the plants, and a dog sitter because it was too much of a hassle to travel internationally with Jagger. Thankfully, Liam and his family agreed to watch him while they were away.

They were even able to convince Harry’s sister, Gemma, to travel and spend a week with them. It was a big accomplishment. As she grows older, she likes to travel less, and absolutely despises traveling via plane, but Harry was able to sweet talk her enough to convince her to bring her son and daughter along for a fun, family friendly vacation. Her son, Aidan, is two years younger than Kyra and her daughter, Mabel, is six.

Regardless of all the planning and finance put into their trip, Kyra was unhappy about it. Her friends had planned a trip to Barcelona for the very same week and she begged to travel with them instead, but Louis and Harry were both quick to tell her no. Harry because he didn’t trust a sixteen year old girl to go out of the country by herself with no parental supervision and Louis because he understood this would be one of their last opportunities to have a family vacation. 

Lydia sits on Harry’s broad shoulders, legs dangling, tiny feet beating against his chest each time he steps. She and Sylvia are both wearing Mickey Mouse ear headbands. 

“But where’s Peter Pan, daddy?” Sylvia pouts. 

Harry smiles, continuing to watch Louis.  _ There he is,  _ he thinks to himself, but doesn’t bother saying it aloud. He's always been convinced that Louis is some kind of mythical being, why not Peter Pan? “Oh, I don’t know, sweetheart. He might be somewhere with Wendy.” 

“Can I say hi to her, daddy?” Sylvia begged, hopping up and down. “Pretty, pretty please? I want to meet Tink!”

Lydia giggles, kicking her legs, and grabs a fistful of Harry’s curly hair, twisting it around her fingers. “Please!” she squeals.

Sylvia is ten years old while Lydia is only two and half. She’s the right age to experience Disney World whereas Lydia most likely won’t remember it as she ages. Harry himself had been fourteen when he visited for the first time. Needless to say, Sylvia having the opportunity meet all of her favorite characters, eat sweets, and ride amusement park attractions for seven days is exciting. 

“Just a moment, darling. Let’s wait for Papa and Ky,” he says.

“They better hurry!” Sylvia exclaims, stepping side to side. “What if Tink has to go back to Neverland and we miss her?”

“We won’t, Sylvie. Relax.” He holds Lydia’s legs with one hand while his other reaches down to rest on the back of Sylvia’s head. He brushes his fingers through her light hair. “You almost done playing photographer over there Lou? We’ve gotta meet Tinkerbell before she goes back to Neverland!” he calls to his husband. 

Louis’ silvery voice answers, “Just a minute!”

While Harry waits for Louis, Lydia moves her other hand to his hair, twisting and pulling at his roots with both hands and Sylvia reaches for Harry’s hand, swinging it back and forth as she gushes about Tinkerbell. Harry doesn’t have a clue why Tinkerbell is her favorite Disney princess - can she even be considered a princess? - because he’s more of a Belle man himself. He's even taken the girls to see the live action musical version of  _Beauty and the Beast_ more than a few times.

As Louis and Kyra walk towards them, Harry makes sense of their hushed conversation. 

“It’s stupid,” Kyra snaps.

Louis doesn’t raise his voice when he says, “It’s not stupid, Kyra. This is going to be one of our last family vacations for awhile and your dad is really excited for all of us to be here together, so just try to act like you’re enjoying it, okay?” Overtime he’s become much more level-headed. Raising children has done him well in regard to his levels of responsibility and maturity. 

“Disney World, though?” she scoffs. “How old do I look? I’m sixteen years old. I could be meeting a pretty girl in Spain right now.” 

“Just-” There it is. The infamous Louis Tomlinson sigh- “Just be nice, alright? I’m not saying you have to enjoy this, but try to. It would make your dad very happy.” 

“Whatever,” she mumbles. 

Harry flicks his eyes, staring down at the pavement. He tries so hard to plan enjoyable family vacations, but it never works in favor of Kyra. She is never happy with anything he does or doesn’t do. Disney World’s Magic Kingdom is the “Most Magical Place On Earth”, so why isn’t she pleased? 

Their relationship remains tense and even awkward at times, though he’s unsure of how to fix it. He has learned to refrain from trying too hard, but can hardly stand knowing Kyra most likely curses his name behind closed doors. He has still yet to figure out why she is always so angry with him. 

“Hey babes,” Louis says, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. He looks like a ordinary tourist wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt and camera around his neck. “How’s it going over here? Where are Gem and the kids?” 

Harry forces a smile. “We’re good. Gem took Mabel and Aidan to go get something to eat. She wanted to spend a bit of alone time with them.” 

“I see.”

“So,” he begins, “Sylvie is adamant about meeting Tinkerbell.” 

“Tinkerbell, huh?” Louis grins, grabbing under Sylvia’s armpits and picking her up. He kisses her forehead. 

He doesn’t show any sign of strain when lifting her. Why would he? He’s used to moving a nearly two hundred pound man post-seizure when he’s nothing but deadweight. Harry doesn’t know how he does it nor does he want to know. The thought of the force he must place on Louis’ stout frame irks him. 

“Yes, papa! She’s over there! See?” Sylvia shouts, wagging her finger towards something in the distance.

“Oh, yes,” Louis gushes, setting her down. “Come on, let’s go meet her.” He reaches for Sylva’s hand, intertwining their fingers. She stands a little under four feet tall. They begin to walk, Harry following behind with Lydia still on his shoulders, and Kyra behind them, arms still crossed over her chest, rolling her eyes. 

A small line has formed, but Harry doesn’t mind. It’s only the third day into their seven day vacation. They have a lot of time to waste, considering the lines at Disney, especially the lines at Disney in the middle of July. 

“Her wings are so big,” Sylvia squeals. “They’re so pretty, aren’t they?”

“They’re prettier than in the films,” Harry agrees. “A lot more sparkly.” 

“Love Tink,” Lydia giggles, nuzzling her chin against the top of Harry’s head.

A few minutes pass. The line has started to move, but slowly as each little girl and boy wants to spend as much time as they can with Tinkerbell, asking her silly questions like what her favorite candy is or when she finds the time to sleep while their parents coo and record the interactions. 

Kyra scoffs. “Oh my God. She’s not even real. Who cares?” 

“Hey,” Harry scolds, leaning in close to her. She tries to move away from him, but he grabs the cotton fabric of her sleeve and pulls her closer. “Don’t spoil this for your sisters.” 

“Sylvia is way too old to be believing in this stuff,” she argues. “This is stupid.” 

Harry can feel Louis’ eyes on him, following his every gesture. He wants to prove to him that he can handle situations like this responsibly and act disciplinary without stressing himself out too much. He’s been good about taking his medication leading up to this vacation and is even better about consuming his doses on time because he doesn’t want to have to worry about having a seizure. This is supposed to be a family vacation, a fun time for him, his husband, and their daughters, and having a seizure would be detrimental to their week of fun. 

He knows he shouldn’t rely on his medicine too much; the pills don’t completely eliminate the probability of having a seizure, but he can hope that keeping up with his prescriptions will be enough. Besides, if he tries hard enough to keep a level-head, obtains eight hours of sleep every night, and watches his diet he should be fine. The last time he had a big seizure was Kyra’s graduation, a little over two months ago, and it wasn’t a terrible one. He didn’t have to go to the hospital, therefore he considers it a win. Although, that particular seizure had troubled Louis for some time, causing him to act more cautious and concerned than usual for a few weeks. 

“Here, Lyddie.” He lifts Lydia off his shoulders and sets her on the ground. “Go stand with papa for a second.” 

She bounces towards Louis. Louis grabs her hand, now holding Sylvia’s in one and Lydia’s in the other. Sylvia doesn’t need her handheld, but she’s a daddy’s girl, in regard to both her fathers. 

“It doesn’t matter if you think it’s stupid. You don’t have to enjoy any of this, but don’t ruin it for your sisters. This means a lot to both of them,” he says. “If you allowed yourself to have a good time, then I’m sure you would enjoy this too.” 

“Yeah, I doubt it,” she replies, dryly. 

Harry releases his grip on her shirt. “Look, I won’t tell you that you have to enjoy any of this, but you should at least be considerate of other people’s experiences.” He walks away from her, standing near the rope separating the line to meet Tinkerbell from the rest of the Magic Kingdom. 

He can hear Louis say, “Give me a minute girls. Sylvia, keep an eye on Lydia.” His words are followed by arms wrapped around Harry’s waist and a chin pressing into the back of his shoulder. “Don’t be upset, baby,” he whispers, breath fanning Harry’s unclothed flesh. 

“What makes you think I’m upset?” Harry replies, looking over his shoulder to meet Louis’ eyes. With age, the crinkles around his eyes have become permanent, but Harry adores them as they serve as a reminder of all the times Louis’ thrown his head back or doubled over with laughter.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louis mutters, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss to Harry’s jaw. “The tension in your shoulders isn’t at all concerning. It isn’t like I could see your back muscles clenching from all the way over there.”

Harry sighs. The point he was trying to prove was not well received. He did not showcase his disciplinary skills accordingly. “It’s fine, Lou,” he says. “Really, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Don’t be daft.” He kisses his jaw again. “Kyra isn’t having a good time. So? The world doesn’t revolve around her as much as she’d like to believe it to. I think this is a marvelous vacation. Sylvia and Lydia are enjoying it so much.” 

“I’m sorry to make you worried over something silly.” Harry exhales deeply. “I just wish she would change her outlook on things is all.” 

“You and I both, love.” Louis pulls away from him and walks around to stand in front of him. He grabs Harry’s chin, forcing his line of sight down. Their eyes meet. “And for the record, I’m not anymore worried than usual, which is good. It’s a good sign if I do say so meself.” 

Harry rests his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “You’re too good to me. I love you.” 

“I love you too. Now, c’mon. Turn that frown upside down. We’re next in line to meet Tinkerbell.” He stands on his tiptoes again, cradling one of Harry’s cheeks in his palm, and kisses the corner of his lips, muttering, “We should explore the hot tub tonight after the girls go to bed.” 

“I look forward to it.”

As soon as it’s the girls’ turn to meet Tinkerbell, Sylvia’s dark eyes light up like fireworks. “Hi Tink!” she giggles. 

“Hello!” Tinkerbell gushes, bending down to be eye level with her. The actress playing Tinkerbell is young and attractive. Her makeup is lightly done; gold glittery eyeshadow is blended on her eyelids, light pink rouge is dusted on the apples of her cheeks, and nude lip gloss is painted on her plump lips. “Your shirt is so pretty! What’s your name?” 

Louis and Harry stand back as Louis films the meeting with his camera. Harry has one arm wrapped around Louis’ shoulders, tugging him into his side. 

Sylvia looks down at her shirt. She wears a navy blue tank top with a white polka-dot pattern and a pair of white jeans. “Sylvia.” 

“Sylvia,” Tinkerbell repeats. “What a beautiful name!” She bends down even further, hands resting on her bare knees. “Oh my goodness! Who’s this little cutie?” she asks, swiping the top of Lydia’s nose. 

“This is my little sister, Lydia,” Sylvia giggles. 

Tinkerbell looks towards Louis and Harry. “You have beautiful daughters!” she exclaims, then a pout suddenly crosses her face. “You’re locking me in a box!” 

Louis scrunches his nose, confused. “No-” 

“You are!” She points to his camera. “My friend Terrence says the red light is the first alert that you’re locking me in a box!” 

Harry laughs, understanding this is part of the Tinkerbell character portrayal. She isn’t supposed to understand or know what technology is. He knows Louis isn’t well versed in Disney, therefore he doesn’t know that the actors are supposed to stay in character no matter what happens. His phone vibrates against his thigh as Louis speaks to the pixie.

_ Gem: Hey H. Just finished having lunch. Where are you guys so we can meet up? _

He types and sends a response.

_ Harry: We’re with Tinkerbell right now, but we’ll be done in a few minutes. Meet us outside Town Square Theater.  _

_ Gem: Cool! See you soon. x _

“Oh.” Louis lowers his camera. “I’m not locking you in a box.” 

Tinkerbell stands upright. “Hm. Are you sure?” She walks toward him until she’s standing in front of him. She puts one hand on her hip and leans forward while her other hand gently taps at the camera lens. “You know, I don’t smell any fish on you! That’s a good sign that you’re not a pirate. If I did, I would know you were no good!”

Harry smiles, watching as his younger daughters’ mouths eyes stay wide and mouths agape as they continue to observe her. “Tinkerbell, I do have a question for you.” 

Tinkerbell rocks on the heels of her feet. “Hm?” 

“My daughter Sylvia wanted to know how fast you can fly.” 

She taps her index finger against her cheek, pondering his question, and turns to face Sylvia. “Well...it depends on the day, really. Normally, I like to fly about as fast as a ladybug because if you fly any faster than that you can’t keep an eye out for the pirates, you know? But if you fly any slower it’s not any fun. You can’t do twirls, right?” 

Sylvia smiles, latching onto her every word. “Pirates are bad.” 

“Yes,” Tinkerbell nods, enthusiastically. “I’m glad you said that! Now, come on in over here, so I can show you around my room!” 

Kyra leans against the wall with a sigh. She mutters something under her breath, but Harry can’t quite make it out. He tries his hardest to ignore her because it isn’t about her level of enjoyment right now. He’s focusing on Sylvia and Lydia and their excitement in regard to Tinkerbell. 

After Tinkerbell finishes with her small room tour, Louis asks, “Can I get a picture of you with the girls?” 

“Picture?” Tinkerbell asks, tilting her head in confusion. “Will it lock me in a box?” 

“No, it’s temporary. It’ll be a souvenir,” he corrects. 

Tinkerbell giggles. “Oh, okay! Can I see your hands?” She takes one of Lydia’s hands and one of Sylvia’s then curtsies, smiling for Louis’ camera. Once the photo has been taken, she thanks them. “Thank you so much for visiting me! I hope I’ll see you again and I hope the rest of your stay in the Magic Kingdom is full of more magic and pixie dust!” 

“Thank you, Tinkerbell.” Harry grins. He picks Lydia up, one arm holding underneath her bottom and his spare hand clasping the wrist of his other arm to offer more support. They walk away from her meet and greet section, moving to sit at a bench in the park. 

“Where to now, girls?” Louis asks. Harry wishes Kyra would give him an answer. If she gave them a suggestion, within reason, they could go do whatever she wants. After all, it’s partially her vacation too. 

“Oh, can we go to Splash Mountain? Please, papa? Please?" Sylvia asks, tugging on the bottom hem of his shirt. “Jill says it’s so much fun!” she exclaims, mentioning her friend from school.

Louis looks to Harry. “I don’t know, sweetheart. You know daddy can’t ride big rides like that.” 

“It’s fine,” Harry says. “Lyddie is too short to ride it anyway. I think they have to be at least three feet tall. We can wait for you guys while you ride it.” 

As they're discussing their options, Gemma appears with Aidan and Mabel walking on either side of her. “There you are! How was Tinkerbell, Miss Sylvia?” she asks. 

Sylvia squeals. “She was so pretty, Aunt Gem! She said she liked my shirt.” 

Gemma raises her eyebrows, acting surprised. She’s always been good with children. She has a soft spot for them. Her entire life revolves around kids; her kids, her brother’s kids, the children of the world. She is very involved with raising funds for charities benefiting children. “She did? Wow.”

“Guess how fast she flies! Daddy asked her for me,” she gushes. Before Gemma even has a chance to answer, she says, “About as fast as a ladybug, Aunt Gem! Because if she flies too fast then she can’t watch out for pirates!” 

Mabel crinkles her nose. “Flying slow is no fun.” 

“That’s why she does it at just the right speed, Mabel!” Sylvia exclaims. “So she can still do tricks and twirls.” 

Harry begins to unintentionally tune her out as she rambles to Mabel about how wonderful Tinkerbell was. She talks about everything, from the way she spoke to the way her dress looked to how her makeup sparkled.

“What’s next?” Gemma asks. “It’s been a bit since I was here last. I forgot how big the Magic Kingdom portion was.”

“Sylvia wants to go to Splash Mountain,” Louis says.

Gemma purses her lips. “Harry can’t ride that. Maybe we should do it another day. Aren’t you two planning a day for yourselves?” she asks. “I could take all the kids to do it then.”

“No, no it’s fine. I think Sylvia wants Louis to ride it with her,” Harry says. “It’s fine, Gem. I really don’t mind.” He hates to cause so much grief. He really doesn’t care if he can ride it or not. He wants the girls to have a good time and be happy, whether he’s involved in every aspect of the vacation depends on the circumstances. 

Louis shakes his head. “Sylvia, can you come here a minute?” 

The young girl flounces over to them. “Yes, papa?”

“Maybe we can do Splash Mountain another day. We want to make sure we include everyone.” 

Luckily, Sylvia is mature for only being ten years old. “Okay, papa. I understand.” 

Harry thinks of an idea. They should be entirely inclusive, even if certain people don’t want to be there. He might as well ask Kyra what she wants to do. “Kyra, is there something you wanted to do?” he asks, turning to face their eldest. A look of discontent has crossed her face.

“Actually, yes.”

He raises his eyebrows. He’s happy that she wants to participate in their organized family practices. “Okay. What would you like to do, Ky?” 

“Go back to the hotel,” she sneers.

Gemma’s face contorts as she looks between Harry and Kyra. He knows she doesn’t like the way Kyra talks to him, but he’s told her time after time that it isn’t her place to say anything about it. Kyra isn’t her daughter. 

“Kyra Marie. Don’t be rude,” Louis warns. “You know what? If you’re going to be hateful, then we’re gonna do what your sister wants to do. Harry love, are you sure you don’t mind if I take Sylvia to Splash Mountain?” 

“It’s fine. Someone has to stay with Lydia anyway,” he says, honestly. It does bother him a bit, knowing he can’t  _ handle  _ amusement park rides, because he hates to feel like a burden or to come across as annoying. They came to an amusement park for their family vacation and he’s unfit to enjoy the attractions which make it renown. He tried to go on a rollercoaster as an adult once, years ago, at Six Flags when he and Louis went, but it caused him more trouble than it was worth. He didn’t experience a full blown grand-mal, but a severe complex partial and a lot of heaving. He’d rather not risk it. 

“Well, I don’t think Mabel is tall enough either,” Gemma says. “I looked at the height requirement earlier. She’s under 102 centimeters.” 

“It’s fine, Gem,” Harry promises. “I’ll keep both of them company.” 

Kyra scoffs. “I’m old enough. I can stay with them.”

“Well then you’ll stay with all of us,” Harry adds, cuddling Lydia closer to his chest. She rests her head on her shoulder, sucking on the tip of her thumb. She’s tired. Being out in the sun and walking around all day is a lot for a two and a half year old. “Regardless of whether you decide to stay put or not, I can’t do it. Either go with your father or stay here with me, your sister, and your cousin.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I’ll go with papa and Aunt Gem.” 

“It’s settled then.” Louis leans in and kisses Harry’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon. Call if you need anything, okay?” 

“It’ll take a bit. The duration of ride itself is twenty minutes long,” he explains, “and since _someone_ didn’t want to pay for fast passes, there’s gonna be a wait. I’ll take Lydia and Mabel to get something to eat.” 

“It’s the middle of a Wednesday afternoon! I didn’t think we’d need them,” Louis argues.

Harry grins. “Yeah, the middle of a Wednesday afternoon in the middle of July.”

“You’ve got me there,” Louis says. “We’ll be back soon, okay? Like I said, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” 

“He’ll be fine,” Gemma says. “Now, come along before the line gets any longer.” 

“See you,” Harry says.

He knows Louis is worried about him having a seizure. The thought is always in the back of his mind too, but Louis constantly frets over it, sometimes to the point of making himself ill, provoking headaches and stomachaches. Harry doesn’t know how to tell him otherwise because anything he has said prior to today has yet to work. Louis doesn’t know how to push it to the back of his mind. Everyone else in his life does, his mother does, his sister does, even his daughters seem to be able to, so why can’t Louis?

He figures Gemma will talk to Louis about it. She might offer good insight to calm Louis down. She’s been dealing with his seizures for far longer than Louis, although he’s had more of them, most of his severe ones, around Louis.

“Alright, girls,” he says after Louis and Gemma have disappeared with the kids. “Let’s go find something to snack on. If I remember correctly, Sleepy Hollow is somewhere around here.” He stands, continuing to hold Lydia in his arms, though he switches the positioning of her arms, holding her with one arm, and holding his free hand out for Mabel to take. 

As they walk, Mabel points out different characters and asks questions about them. “Uncle Harry,” she whines.

“Yes, dear?” 

“Why are all the characters here? Shouldn’t they be at home?”

Harry ponders her question for a moment. “They’re here to meet kids like you. It’s a big part of their job. They’ll go home later tonight.”

“So…” she pauses. “It’s their job to talk to me?” 

“Yep.” Harry squeezes her hand. Kids ask the darnedest things, but he has become better at answering their goofy questions over time. “My old job and Uncle Louis’ old job used to be like that too. We were entertainers. We sang for a lot of people.”

“How many?” 

“A lot,” he chuckles. “I’m sure your mum will tell you more about it someday.” 

Mabel shrugs. “Okay.”

Sleepy Hollow is a small restaurant in the Magic Kingdom. The building looks similar to a castle, built with multi-colored bricks and steep, layered walls. Small windows are scattered generously across the walls in a seemingly random pattern. They wait in line until it’s their turn to order at the window. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the cashier dressed in old women’s garb asks. A smile is painted across her petite features. 

“Just a minute. You can have whatever you want, love,” Harry says to Mabel. He already knows what to order for Lydia.  “Can you read the menu?” 

Mabel furrows her eyebrows, tongue peeking between her lips as she concentrates on the few options listed on the menu. Most of the menu options are waffles listed with different toppings.  “I don't know.” She frowns.

“How about a Mickey Waffle? It has powdered sugar on it,” he suggests. 

“Okay.” 

“Alright.” He glances at the cashier. “Can I have two Mickey waffles with powdered sugar?” 

“Of course.” She smiles, typing his order into the computer. “Anything else for you, sir?” 

“A bottle of water, please.” 

She clicks a button on the system, then reads his total off, “That’ll be $15.53.” 

He releases Mabel’s hand to dig in his pocket for his wallet. He withdraws a twenty, hands it to her, then drops the loose change he recieves in the front pocket of his shorts. He grabs the first plate and water bottle, hands it to Mabel, and grabs the second plate with his free hand. “Come on, Mabel. Follow me.” 

They sit at a table shaded with a large, flamboyantly colored umbrella. He sits Lydia down beside him and uses the knife and fork to cut the waffle into smaller pieces. The powdered sugar is going to make a mess, but he doesn’t mind as long as Lydia and Mabel enjoy it. “Do you need me to cut yours up too, love?” 

Mabel nods. Harry reaches for her plate and cuts the waffle, shaped like Mickey, into bite-sized portions. “There you go.” He slides the plate toward her, then begins to feed Lydia. She can do it herself, though she does it in a very messy fashion, so Harry tends to do it for her. 

Louis always snaps at him for it, saying she’ll never learn to be independent if they continue to baby her, but Harry disagrees. She’s only two and a half. She won’t stay this young forever. He still hand feeds her when Louis isn’t around to see, which hardly happens. Louis is around now more than ever. He’s seen him more in the last two months then he has in the last two years of their marriage. 

Harry stabs the plastic fork through a piece of waffle, then holds it to Lydia’s lips. She wraps her mouth around the fork and chews on the sugary snack. “Are you excited for Year 2, Mabel? I know Sylvia isn’t looking forward to Year 6.” 

Mabel nods, cheeks expanding from a mouthful of waffle. “I like school.” 

“Really?” he asks. “It must be better than when I was there. I hated school. Do you know what you wanna be when you grow up?” 

“A scientist,” she answers, sweetly.

Harry raises his eyebrows. “Oh, really? Well, you are super smart.” 

“A princess,” Lydia declares, giving an answer expected of a two year old. “No work, daddy!” 

He kisses the top of her head. “You’ve still gotta work hard for that, silly. Cinderella worked very hard to get where she is today. She cleaned many pottys.” 

Lydia giggles. “Ew!” 

“Exactly.” He grins. “There’s no such thing as an easy job, love.” 

He continues to feed Lydia, making small talk with Mabel as he does so. Gemma’s kids have always been well behaved, but ever since her husband, their father, passed away, they’ve become more subdued. Gemma has had to work hard for them to understand what happened to their dad, come to terms with it, and learn to grow from such a traumatic experience. 

As he continues to feed Lydia, his eyes begin to hurt. The sun is affecting his vision suddenly, sparking sensitivity and irritation, which is odd. He usually doesn’t have a sensitivity to light. He pulls the sunglasses on top of his head down, shielding his eyes from the harmful UV rays. He worries, but not much, knowing his body is weird, his body has always reacted to natural elements differently. It is until he becomes overheated and has to slide his button up off, leaving him in just a dark tank top, that he realizes something is wrong. His skin feels clammy. His watch is sticking to his skin. 

“Uncle Harry?” Mabel asks, curiously. “Why are you shaking so much?” 

Harry looks down at his hands and notices how severely their trembling. He’s holding Lydia’s fork in his right hand, but it’s flopping in every direction. He’s unable to hold still, no matter how hard he tries. He sets the utensil down, swallowing thickly. 

He hates when his hands do that. Now, he feels as though everyone is staring at him, watching his hands spasm. He feels like the strangers around them have noticed the changes in his behavior and they’re whispering about him, making snide comments. Even though the sensible side of him knows they couldn’t care less and he’s most likely experiencing paranoia, it seems like the world around him is collapsing. 

He reaches into his back pocket, fingers fumbling with the denim material, for his phone. Upon withdrawing it, he drops it on the cement once, struggles to pick it up, and drops it again. Though, the second time he isn’t able to grab it, the aluminum casing sliding between his fingers.

“I’ll get it, Uncle Harry,” Mabel says, jumping out of her chair to pick it up for him. She hands it to him and it takes him having to hold the wrist of his right arm with his left hand to keep the phone still enough for him to search for Louis’ contact, struggling to access his phone with only his thumb sliding across the fiberglass screen. 

He’s able to hit Louis’ contact and holds the phone to his ear as he waits for him to answer. 

His husband's sweet voice speaks after three rings. “Hey love! I was just about to call you,” he says. “The ride just finished. I’m a little soaked, but I think the girls really enjoyed it. Where are you?” 

Harry’s throat feels dry, like all the moisture has been extracted from his insides. It feels like his throat is swelling, which must mean it’s closing up. He fears that he’s going to suffocate, but he doesn’t know how to express the sensation to Louis. 

“Harry, you there? I think the connections bad,” his husband says. “It might be the water. Let me walk away from it.” A few moments pass, then Louis says, “Okay. I think this is better. Can you hear me?” 

“I-” Harry tries- “Lou-” The left side of his face feels numb. He’s never experienced that sort of sensation before. His teeth feel funny as well, almost like the inside of his mouth is fevered and infected and his teeth are no longer there. He knows it could be from grinding them together because he knows he tends to do that a lot during seizures.

Louis hesitates. “Harry? What’s going on?” 

“Lou-” Harry groans- “Lou, I-” 

“What’s the matter, love? Harry? Are you okay?” The panic in Louis’ voice is humorous to Harry because it sounds exaggerated, like something that would come out of a cartoon character’s mouth in the middle of a tragedy. What kind of tragedies do cartoon characters face anyway? Falling off a cliff? Getting stuck in a cave? 

He laughs, unsure of what else to do.

“Harry? Hey, listen to me,” Louis says, frantic. “You have your location turned on, don’t you? I’m going to come to you, okay? I need you to stay there. Don’t move. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” Louis’ voice sounds muffled suddenly, meaning he probably pulled the phone away from his face. “He’s having a seizure. Yes, I’m sure. Just meet me over there. He’s over by Liberty Square.” 

His head starts to feel strange next. It’s similar to sensations he’s had when he used to drink. The pavement stretching before him looks crooked, tilted almost. The sight makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

“Harry?” Louis calls. “Hey, Harry? Are you sitting down, love? I need you to sit if you’re not already. I’m almost there.” 

“Mhm,” he hums. 

He hears Louis’ deep, ragged breaths. He can only imagine the speed he’s moving at.

The thought of it makes him laugh. He can picture Louis moving like they do in cartoons, so fast that their surroundings become blurred, the main protagonist is the only poignant thing on the screen.

“Harry, listen to me,” Louis breathes. “You need to lie down. If you don’t think you can move without hurting yourself, then wait for me to get there.” 

His head feels like it’s rolling, like it’s too heavy for his neck to hold straight, and his eyes won’t stay focused either, his vision blurs in and out. 

“Uncle Harry?” Mabel asks. “Are you okay?” 

Harry doesn’t answer her. He doesn’t know how to. “Lie…” Harry repeated, words catching in his throat. “Lie down.”

“You’re right. Lie down, baby,” Louis says, softly, then adds, “Only if you can.” 

He feels as though he’s going to faint, but knows it’s the seizure trying to push through and grasp ahold of his body.  _ You’re in control, _ he keeps thinking,  _ you’re going to be okay.  _

Mabel suddenly grabs his arm. “Uncle Harry, you made yourself bleed,” she says. 

He doesn’t understand what she means, but follows her line of sight, seeing the fresh scratches on the inside of his forearm. He wasn’t aware he was scratching himself, digging his short fingernails into the flesh of his arm, scraping them back and forth, over and over, but the bleeding marks show otherwise. He doesn’t even know how long he’s been seizing for. The scratching is a sign of a Complex Partial, but how long did it last? He has no comprehension of time right this moment.

“Louis,” Harry moans.

“What is it, baby? I’m listening. Talk to me, love.” 

“Want- no…” he grunts. “Don’t want- mmm…not here.” 

Louis, again, hesitated. “It’s okay, Harry. Hold on for me, okay? Can you hold on another minute for me, sweetheart?” 

“Dunno,” Harry mumbles.

“Try for me,” Louis pleads. “Just another minute. Try for me, love.” 

Harry realizes after a few moments more that he’s going to go. He feels his bladder release and urine drips onto the cement under the grated chair he’s sat in. He should feel mortified, but he doesn’t feel much of anything aside from the pain masking the right side of his body. When he looks up for a final time, he sees Louis pushing through a group of people, face flushed and eyes wide, his chest rapidly rising and falling. 

They make eye contact for a second, then he sees nothing at all, eyes rolling back.

 

 

 

 

“Harry?” Louis calls, horrified, his eyes widening as he watches his spouse teeter back and forth like an unstable ladder. “Shit. Harry, love-“ He moves forward to grab him, but not quickly enough, missing Harry entirely as his eyes roll back and he tips forward, capsizing like a ship, falling against the tabletop first, followed by the hard pavement. 

A chorus of gasps can be heard from surrounding bystanders, but Louis can hardly hear them over the thudding of his heartbeat in his ears. He immediately drops to his knees, helping Harry off his stomach before the convulsions start. His temple is slashed with a large, bleeding wound. Blood is pouring out of his head. His nose is crooked; Louis knows it must be broken. 

“It’s alright, shh. I’m here. I’ve got you,” he whispers, brushing Harry’s hair off his forehead. It’s matted to his skin with blood. He’s crying out, sharp and pained squeals break through his lips. He touches his cheek, caressing his fingers along his clammy skin. “Don’t cry, shh. It’s alright, shh, you’re alright, love. It’s gonna be okay.” He looks at Mabel and Lydia, who are both distraught, sobbing, and says, “Mabel, I need you to take Lydia and wait for your mum by the restaurant.” 

Harry’s jaw is pulled tight. Louis can see the struggle in his expression as his features begin to twitch with the impending fit. “Can someone call 911?” he asks, attempting not to sound too desperate. He doesn’t want to scare his daughters.  


“I’ll call,” a woman says.

“Thank you,” Louis says, offhandedly, focusing entirely on Harry. His head is bleeding an exorbitant amount, so much that Louis is moving past feeling concerned and inching towards panic. He doesn’t know why there’s so much or more importantly why it won’t stop. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m right here, baby. I’m not gonna leave you. It’s okay for you to start seizing, baby it’s okay,” he guides. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Sometime between Harry collapsing and Louis rushing to help him on his side, the rest of his family must have appeared. He has Gemma on Harry’s other side, eyes teary as she holds her shirt sleeve against Harry’s forehead. There’s far too much blood, though. He bleeds through her shirt in a matter of seconds. 

“Papa?” His eldest daughter calls from afar, standing with her two sisters and two cousins. “Is there something I can do?”

Louis shakes his head. “Stay with your sisters and cousins, Kyra. Please.” He slides his hand under Harry’s head, curling his fingers against his scalp, creating a barrier between concrete and flesh. “Does someone have a cloth?” he asks, keeping his eyes on Harry. 

A man digs in his backpack, pulls out a plain black shirt, and hands it to Louis, “Here’s an extra shirt, sir,” he says.

Louis thanks him, then begins to dab at the wound on Harry’s forehead. He can tell it needs stitches. 

“Fuck,” Gemma hisses. “His nose is broken.” 

“I’m not worried about that right now,” Louis replies, wincing at the choking noises erupting from Harry’s mouth. “We’ll have him looked at when he comes to.” 

A deep, disgruntled cry builds in the back of Harry’s throat. He begins to convulse a few moments later. The convulsions start in his right foot, as per usual, and slowly expand from one side to the other until his entire body is imprisoned by trembling and jerking. “Keep an eye on the time, Gem,” Louis says, tending to Harry immediately. 

“On it,” she says, setting a stopwatch on her phone. 

“Shit,” Louis hisses, sitting back on his heels, but keeps his hand under Harry’s head. He can’t risk him smacking it off the concrete. He’s already injured the front of his head; they shouldn’t risk him wounding the back. “It’s gonna be alright, love. I’m here, shh. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart, so good. I love you so much.” He doesn’t like the way Harry’s face looks, bloodied and beaten, but there isn’t anything he can do about it for the time being. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” he whispers. “Shh, it’s gonna be fine. I’ve got you.” 

Heavy wheezing leaves Harry as he seizes, spasming against the concrete. Louis knows his body will be bruised, but realizes he may also have broken bones due to how uneven and hard the cement is. He hopes the injuries he sustains aren’t too bad, but tries not to think about it right this moment. It doesn’t matter. He needs Harry to come out of the fit first, then he can worry about getting him to the hospital and evaluated. 

“You’ve got to come out of it for me, H. I know you can. You can do it, lovely. You’re starting to scare me a bit,” he admits, swallowing thickly as he watches Harry helplessly tremble under him. He inhales sharply upon noticing the awkward motions of Harry’s shoulder. He’s bound to have dislocated it. While he did fall forward, he fell mostly onto his right side. “It’s okay,” Louis whispers, curling his fingers against the back of his head. “You’ll be alright,” he says. “You’ve gotta come out of it for me first.” 

“Come on, Harry,” Gemma encourages. “You’re okay. Stay with us, bub, stay with us.” 

Harry’s face is flushed and painfully tense. His eyelids are clenched tightly and his lips composed in a tight line, looking nothing like the gentle featured Harry he knows. Louis sees the puddle of dark urine growing under his thighs, adding to the mess before them. Harry would be mortified if he was aware of his involuntary bodily functions. While Louis saw the excretion on the floor, he chooses to ignore it, as he always does, because it isn’t important. He isn’t bothered by it. He knew Harry couldn’t help it. 

“It’s been a minute three,” she says. 

Louis always falls into the nurturer position with ease. Upon seeing Harry struggling so intensely, he only ever hesitates for a moment, then is able to convince himself to help him. His hand grazes the cement each time Harry spasms and jerks his head back. “Come on, Harry. Come out of it for me, sweetheart. You can do it, love, you can do it.” 

The most concerning part of this particular seizure - aside from the loud groans leaving him as he convulses - is the blood. Crimson seeps down his forehead, trickles down the side of his face, and drips on the ground.  The situation doesn’t take a psychological toll on Louis until Harry begins to groan, repetitively, straining the veins in his neck and forehead as he does so. 

His breathing isn’t normal either. The pattern is loud and heavy as if he’s struggling to catch his breath and followed by a choking noise in the back of his throat and clucking of his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He begins to foam at the mouth, bloody saliva dripping off his lips and down his cheeks. “It’s alright. I’m here, shh, I’m here. You’ve gotta stop seizing for me, Harry please.” 

“Two and a half,” Gemma says. 

It’s been awhile since he’s seen Harry experience such a severe fit. The intensity of this one isn’t uncommon, but Louis wants to know what exactly has provoked it.

The only thing keeping him sane is the lack of emotion in Harry’s unfocused eyes because at least he knows Harry isn't’t mentally present or feeling the wrath of the seizure as it occurs. The seizure is slow to cease, but eventually he stops spasming on the floor, only a slight quiver of his bottom lip is evident. 

“Come back to me, baby. You can do it,” he whispers. He allows a few moments to pass, then decides they’re in the clear, and leans over his stiff form to wipe the saliva off his mouth, chin, and cheeks with the bottom of his shirt.

He repositions his hand, carding his fingers through his hair. It's damp, in fact his entire body was damp with perspiration from the exertion seizures provokes. His face is flushed. There isn’t any color to his complexion, skin appearing almost translucent. Though, a splash of discolored blue twinges against his lips from a lack of oxygen. 

Saliva is still dripping out of his lips. Louis tries to wipe it away as it comes, stroking his cheek in the meantime. “You're alright, try to come back to me, baby,” he encourages, waiting for his eyelids to flutter open and a spark of emotion to cross his eyes. He gently props his head on his thigh. He is in a postitical daze, head lolled against his groin, his body askew like a ragdoll. 

Instead, he stares unblinkingly into the distance, showing no sign of coherency. His irises and pupils fight the urge to roll back into their sockets, lethargically wandering as he stares off. 

“H? Harry, look at me,” he guides, cradling his cheek. “Look at me, baby. Hey, can you look at me?” 

Harry stirs, shifting his head against the cement. He chokes on a groan. He’s confused and disoriented. A incomprehensible expression spans across his face, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he slowly peers around the amusement park. Almost as soon as he begins to come to, he starts to cry, eyes watering and lips quivering as a sob leaves him. 

“Hey, shh,” Louis whispers, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You had a seizure and hit your head.” 

Harry buries his injured face against the inside of Louis’ thigh, body trembling as he whimpers. 

Gemma places her hand on his back, shushing him as she consoles, tracing circles along his back. “You’re okay, Harry.” 

He pulls away from Louis’ leg and vomits, covering the cement and Louis’ shorts in it. “It’s alright,” Louis says, not even flinching at the rancid substance. “It’s gonna be okay. You’ve got to relax, baby. Don’t cry. It’s okay. Gem, can you grab his button up off the chair? I wanna get him covered up.” 

Gemma reaches for his shirt, then places it over Harry’s lap, tucking it under the back of his thighs.

Louis feels bad about the entire thing, from him being alone when the seizure started to weeing himself in front of dozens of people. “Someone called 911. We’re gonna get your head looked at. You came down pretty hard.” 

Harry groans, raising his hand to touch his face. He whimpers upon touching his nose. Louis reaches down and takes his hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “Harry, can you tell me what my name is?” he asks. 

“Mm…” he moans, shaking his head.

“Okay, that’s okay. Do you know where we are?” 

Again, Harry shakes his head. 

“That’s alright,” he whispers, kissing Harry’s knuckles.

“Should we sit him up?” Gemma asks.

“Let’s wait for the medics to get here before we do that,” he says. “I don’t know if he hurt himself when he fell.” He continues to card his fingers through Harry’s hair, careful to avoid grazing the injuries on his forehead, nose, and cheek. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispers. 

Medics enter the scene. Immediately, they observe the deep wound on Harry’s forehead and check his pupils with a flashlight. “He’s concussed,” the female medic calls to her partner. “He has a history of seizures, correct?” 

“He’s had epilepsy since he was a kid,” Louis says, then continues to answer the rest of the stereotypical questions medics ask without being provoked. “He’s been on his current medication for a few months now. I have them written down in my wallet. Without considering external factors, they’re usually controlled.” He stands, moving back when the medics lift him onto a backboard then the gurney. “Can I ride with him?” 

“You’ll have to sit up front in the passenger seat,” the female medic says. “As long as you’re okay with that, then it should be fine.” 

“That’s fine,” he answers. Before he loads into the ambulance, he approaches Gemma and the kids. “I’m going to the hospital with him. Maybe take the kids back to the hotel and when they clear Harry, we can figure out what we’re going to do.” 

Gemma nods. “Tell him I love him,” she says, “and give him a big kiss for me as well.” 

“I will, Gem. I’ll see you soon.” He kisses her cheek, then carries on to the ambulance. He climbs into the passenger seat, not having the chance to see Harry. 

Upon arrival at the hospital, Louis is made to wait in the emergency room lobby while Harry undergoes an MRI and is treated for his wounds. The doctor who comes out to speak with him is very kind, explaining Harry experienced a mild concussion, broken nose, and some moderate bruising, but won’t be needing to stay overnight. Louis is thankful, but shows more gratitude when he’s brought to where Harry is lying in bed, face no longer bloody, but swollen and bruised.

“Hey,” Louis says, sitting in the chair beside the bed. 

Harry furrows his brow, head lying crooked on the pillow propping him up. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asks.

“Hu’ban,” Harry slurs. 

Louis leans on the railing keeping Harry in bed. The hospital staff have put padded inserts on them in case Harry has a second fit. Louis made sure to inform them that Harry having multiple seizures in one day wasn’t uncommon behavior. “Yes,” he says, brushing Harry’s hair off his face. “Do you know where we are right now, sweetheart?” 

Harry glances at the I.V. in his hand, then at the white walls enclosing them. His green eyes are blown with confusion. “Hos’tal,” he mumbles. 

“Mhm, we’re at the hospital,” Louis says, stroking his face as he explains what happened, “You had a seizure earlier. It sounded like it started off as a Complex Partial, then turned into a grand-mal. How you feeling? Sick to your stomach or anything?” 

Harry swallows, pressing against Louis’ hand. “Wan’ go’me,” he groans. 

“Home’s a bit far away, love,” Louis says. “We’re in Florida right now. I don’t think you’re currently in good enough shape to travel. You’ve got a concussion.”

He shakes his head. “No Fo’da.” 

“Yes, Florida. We came for Disney World. You remember seeing Tinkerbell today don’t you?” Louis asks, keeping his eyes on Harry. 

Harry hesitates, then gestures to his back, grabbing his shoulder. “Wings.” 

“She had big, sparkly wings, yes. Sylvia was absolutely enthralled with her. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited. I have some pictures and videos. I’ll show you once you start to feel better.” 

His phone vibrates with an alert. 

_ Gemma Styles: Kyra and Aidan are going to watch the younger ones. I’m on my way to the hospital. How is he?  _

Louis sighs, knowing he can’t tell Gemma that she isn’t allowed to come see her brother. 

_ Louis: They’re not going to keep him overnight. Just for a few more hours until they’re sure his concussion isn’t something more serious. His nose is broken and he has quite a lot of bruising, but he should be okay. xx _

Harry arches his neck to look at Louis’ phone when it buzzes again. He sighs, lowering his head after a few moments. Louis assumes he’s unable to read it or simply doesn’t care. 

_ Gemma Styles: Is he conscious yet?  _

_ Louis: Yes, but he’s having a hard time talking. His words are really slurred. Concussion and bitten tongue combo is a no go.  _

_ Gemma Styles: And his memory?  _

_ Louis: It’s alright. Couldn’t remember that we’re in Florida, but remembers seeing Tinkerbell earlier. I don’t know what kind of logic that is, but it’s Harry we’re talking about so… _

Louis sets his phone face down on the bed and leans closer to Harry, resting his chin on the rail. “How’s your head feel?”

“Hurts,” Harry mumbles, shutting his eyes. 

“I bet it does,” he says, running his fingers through Harry’s hair. “It’ll feel better soon. You and I both know how fast you bounce back.” 

Harry falls asleep before Gemma steps foot in the hospital room. Louis puts his index finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be quiet. 

She sits down beside him. “How much longer are they saying?” she asks, quietly. 

He checks his phone for the time. It’s 6:43 p.m. “We should be able to leave around eight or so,” he answers. 

“He looks rough.” 

Louis looks at her. “Falling face first tends to do that to a person,” he says, dryly. He sinks against the chair, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are the kids?” 

“Mabel’s rather upset. The others are more worried than anything else. I don’t think Lydia understands what happened.”

“I’m sorry about Mabel.” 

Gemma shakes her head and reaches for his hand. “Don’t be. Harry’s my brother. I understand that he can’t help it. It was about time I explained it to her anyway. She’s old enough to understand.”

“Spreading awareness is the one of the best solutions,” he agrees. “Lydia is still young. I’m sure I’ll have to take the time to explain it to her in the next few years, like I had to do with Sylvia and Kyra.”

“Is it a hard conversation to have? I never had to explain it to Aidan,” she says. “He figured it out for himself.” 

Louis hesitates, thinking it over for a moment. “Kids aren’t nearly judgemental as you’d think. It’ll be okay, Gem. She’ll understand.” 

By the time eight rolls around, a nurse has already come in to check on Harry, charting his vitals, before declaring he can go home, or well back to the hotel, since they’re a flight and hours away from their actual home.

With Louis’ help, the nurse manages to slide Harry into the wheelchair. It’s not an easy task. He’s weak, so weak that his legs start to buckle as soon as he stands. 

“Easy, love,” Louis whispers, arm tight around Harry’s waist. “There you go.” 

Harry slumps over in the seat. Louis keeps one hand planted on his right shoulder, preventing him from tipping the chair as they walk through the corridors and to the rental car Gemma drove. 

“Grab the door for me?” Louis suggests, nodding for Gemma to approach. She opens the back door while Louis slides one hand under Harry’s bare backside, as the hospital gown is open, and hooks the other under his knees. “Harry, can you grab the front of your gown?” he asks, not wanting Harry to flash his sister and the nurse when he picks him up. 

Harry doesn’t move, eyes lethargically blinking. 

“Shield your eyes then,” he says to Gemma. “I’m sure you don’t want to see your brother’s-“

“-You’re right,” Gemma interrupts, eyes downcast, hand pressed to her forehead. “I really don’t.” 

“Alright, love. Here we go,” Louis whispers, lifting Harry out of the wheelchair. His lips clamp together, concealing a pained grunt as he sits Harry in the backseat. He’s getting to be too old to carry Harry, but doesn’t have another choice. 

Harry sinks against the seat while Louis buckles him in. He touches his face, brushing his thumb over his cheek. “You can sleep once I shut the door, okay?” he negotiates. “It’s going to be about a fifteen minute ride.” 

“Mm,” Harry hums, watching Louis with hooded eyelids. His face is still flushed and eyes sunken, dark bags seemingly painted underneath them. Gauze covers the stitched wound on his head and a plaster stretches across the bridge of his nose. 

“I love you,” Louis whispers, gently kissing Harry. He pulls away, shuts the door, and thanks the nurse who helped with Harry. 

“Of course, dear,” she says. “Don’t hesitate to call the front desk if you have any questions.” She bids them farewell. 

Louis climbs into the passenger seat, in order to keep an eye on Harry, while Gemma drives. 

Five minutes of silence pass before Gemma asks, “How’s he holding up back there?”

Louis looks over his shoulder, acting as though he hasn’t snuck a glance at Harry every few seconds. “He’s asleep,” he says.

“Good. He needs to rest,” she replies.

When they pull into the hotel parking lot about twelve minutes later, Louis looks at Gemma. “Can you run up to our hotel room and grab him a pair of sweatpants? I don’t think he’d take well to flashing half of Florida.”

Gemma doesn’t put up a fight, immediately disappearing into the five star hotel. Louis climbs out of the car and rounds the front, opening Harry’s door. He caresses his forehead, making sure to keep his touch gentle, tucking his hair behind his ears. “Love, it’s time to wake up,” he whispers as to not startle him, undoing his seatbelt with his free hand. “You can sleep once we get upstairs.” 

Harry furrows his brow, lines of distress appearing on his forehead. “Lou,” he mumbles. 

“Yes, dear?” 

He shakes his head. “Don’ feel good.” 

Louis doesn’t understand what he means, but worries about him having a second seizure. “What-” he begins to say, but before he manages to say anything more, Harry doubles over, vomiting out of the car. His sick splashes against the pavement. “Shit,” Louis hisses, moving one hand to rest on Harry’s back, tracing lines down his spine, and the other on his chest to keep him from tumbling out of the car. “It’s alright. Get it all out, lovely. It’s no big deal.” 

Once he’s finished, Louis pulls him into his arms, hugging him tightly. Harry buries his face against Louis’ collarbone, breathing heavily. 

“You’ll feel better by morning,” he says, kissing the top of his head. “I’m going to stay with you.” 

Gemma returns, stopping when she sees the puddle of vomit. She doesn’t say anything concerning it, rather clears her throat to obtain their attention. “I’ve brought pants,” she says. 

“I see.” Louis takes them from her, slinging them over his shoulder. “You can go back inside if you want to. I think he’s got a bit of his strength back.” 

She comes closer, kissing Harry’s cheek. “I’ll see you inside, babe. Don’t give Louis too hard of a time.” 

“I’ll manage,” Louis replies. Once Gemma leaves, Louis glances at Harry. “I want you to put some pants on. Do you think you can step into them?” 

Harry touches his forehead, eyes narrowing when he feels the fabric of the gauze. He tries to pull at it with his fingers.

“Don’t do that, sweetheart,” Louis says, pushing his hand off his forehead. “We’re not supposed to take it off until you shower. I need you to step into these sweatpants for me. I’m gonna bend down and hold them still, okay? You can hold onto my shoulders.” 

He bends down, stretching the sweatpants horizontally, making the leg holes large to give Harry more room to slide his foot in. He’s barefoot. Louis has his shoes in the front seat of car, but as for the rest of his clothes, they were soiled. Louis gave the hospital the okay to toss his shirt, shorts, and underpants. 

“Easy, love. One foot at a time. We’re not in a rush. Take your time,” he says. He feels Harry’s hands grab his shoulders, fisting the material of his shirt to hold himself steady. He hates moments like this. He still helps Lydia dress herself; why is he helping his grown husband pull a pair of pants on? He hates treating Harry like a child, but there is no other way to handle situations like these.

Once he’s stepped into the pants and they’re around his ankles, Louis stands, tugging them up as he rises. He untucks the hospital gown, letting it fall, resting just above Harry’s knees. “How do you feel now? Do you reckon you can walk?” he asks.

Harry swallows, thickly, then nods. “Think so,” he mumbles.

“Okay, love. I’m gonna grab your shoes then,” he says. “Why don’t you sit back down for me?”

Harry tilts his head, confused. “What?”

“Can you sit down?” he asks, again. “I’m gonna grab your shoes. It’ll take two seconds, but I want you to sit.” 

It clicks with Harry this time. He steps back up into the seat, using the handle installed on the roof - as guided by Louis - and sits, legs dangling out of the car. 

Louis rounds the car, opening the passenger seat to grab the pair of tennis shoes. He returns, barring the blue and white sneakers in his hands. “I’m gonna help you put your shoes on,” he says. “I don’t want you walking around barefoot.” He eases the first shoe on Harry’s foot, tying it tight, then follows the same course of action with his second shoe. 

“Alright.” He stands. “Let’s go inside, sweets. You must be tired, I know I am.” He grabs both of Harry’s hands and pulls him to his feet. This time Harry manages to stand without his knees buckling underneath his weight, though it only takes a few steps for Louis to notice the sway in his walk. His body is understandably weak. “Here we go, H.” He slips his arm around his waist and encourages Harry to walk with him. 

Harry sags against Louis, head resting against his shoulder as they walk into the hotel, to the elevator, and ride to their floor level. They share a joint bathroom with the girls while Gemma is across the hall, bathroom joint with her children. 

When they walk into their bedroom, Kyra and Sylvia are sitting on their bed. Kyra immediately stands, beelining toward them. “How are you feeling, dad?” 

Harry blinks at her, furrowing his brow, confused. 

“Dad?” she asks.

“He needs sleep,” Louis says, leading Harry to the bed. Sylvia’s eyes follow them as they cross the room. “Where’s your sister?” 

“She’s with Aunt Gem,” Kyra answers, standing with her arms crossed over her chest. “Is he okay?” 

Louis pulls the duvet over Harry, tucking it around him. He sits on the edge of the mattress, leans over, and presses his lips to his forehead. “I love you so much,” he whispers, then turns to look at Sylvia and Kyra. Sylvia hasn’t said a word. Her eyes are watery as she watches Harry lose his fight against exhaustion, falling asleep. 

“Is he okay?” Kyra asks, again.

Louis rubs his hand over his face, exasperated. He’s exhausted. The adrenaline the seizure brought on has diminished, leaving him spent. “He has a concussion. I’ve just got to keep an eye on him.” 

“For how long?” 

“A few days.” He shrugs. “It’s getting to be late. If you girls want to be on time for Aunt Gem tomorrow, you should head to bed.”

Kyra squints. “On time for what?” 

“She’s taking you back to Disney in the morning.” 

Louis and Gemma figured it was the best alternative for Gemma to take the kids to the amusement park while Harry recovers. Kyra and Aidan are both old enough to help her watch the little ones. It isn’t fair for the kids to be stuck in the hotel because Harry isn’t feeling well and Louis deems it one hundred necessary to stay with him. 

Kyra doesn’t argue. “Okay.” She looks at Sylvia, offering her hand. “C’mon, Sylv. We should go to bed.”

Sylvia looks down, shaking her head, light brown hair falling in front of her face. 

“Sylvia,” her older sister sighs. “Papa wants to be left alone with Daddy.” 

Again, Sylvia shakes her head. 

“Sylvia-”

“Hold on, Ky.” Louis reaches over Harry’s sleeping form, cradling her face in the palm of his hand. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” 

Sylvia keeps her head down as she sniffles. Louis’ thumb grows damp the longer he leaves it on her cheek. “Oh, Sylvia. Why are you crying?” 

“I hate when Daddy gets sick,” she snivels, shoulders shuddering as she cries. “I want him to be okay.” 

“He  _ is _ okay,” he encourages, gesturing to Harry. “Look at him, love. He’s just resting.” 

“He’s hurt. He was- he was  _ bleeding  _ and-” She chokes on a sob- “and scared. I don’t like to see Daddy like that, papa. Why is he like that?”

Kyra sighs. 

“Both of you, come here,” he says 

Kyra sulks over and leans against the dresser while Sylvia carefully crawls over Harry and climbs into Louis’ lap. 

“I’ve explained it to you before, haven’t I?” He wraps an arm around her, holding her still. She’s still crying, but not as loudly now that she’s being consoled by her dad. “It’s a bad break for your dad to have to deal with a disability that makes things harder. But remember his abilities, too and know that he works to strengthen them everyday. He’s more than moments like today. It’s natural for you to feel angry or sad, but you have to try your hardest to understand.” 

Sylvia leans her head against his chest. “It’s not fair.” 

“It’s not,” he agrees, “but whenever you see someone with a disability, whether it’s your dad or not, you should remember that even though they are having a hard time, they still need endless love and support.” 

Kyra nods. “You’ll get used to it Sylvia. It isn’t so bad once you understand.” 

“It’s like how you’re Diabetic,” Louis says. “You have to work a little harder to keep yourself in check, making sure you watch what you eat, and telling me or dad when you don’t feel so good. It’s a similar thing, love. You and your dad are a lot alike.” 

“I know.” Sylvia chews on the inside of her cheek. “Will he be okay?” 

“He’ll be just fine. I’m sure by morning he’ll be feeling a lot better.” He kisses her cheek. “Both of you give me a big hug then go get ready for bed.” He holds his arms out wide, embracing both Kyra and Sylvia tightly. “I love you two so much,” he says. “You’re both very wonderful and I’m glad to call you my daughters.” 

“Love you too, papa,” they both echo. 

Louis releases them, kissing each of their cheeks before sending them on their way. He showers, changes into a pair of boxers, and slides into bed beside Harry. He cuddles against, chest pressing to his back, and wraps his arm around his torso, holding him snug. “I love you, Harry,” he mutters, pressing his forehead against his shoulder. 

He knows if Harry were awake, he’d be saying those lovely three words back, and knowing is enough for him. 


End file.
